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THE PERFUME- ~ 

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A PERSIAN LOVE POEM 
BY CRAVEN LANGSTROTH 



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SAALFIELD & FITCH, 

PUBLISHERS, 

12 BIBLE HOUSE, ASTOR PLACE, 

NEW YORK. 









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Copyright by 
CRAVEN LANGSTROTH BETTS, 



TO 

R. G. W. 



THE PERFUME-HOLDER. 



AIR Naishapiir, two hundred years ago, 
Then free and prosperous from the Turkish foe, 
Like a bright jewel out of Allah's hand 
Lay gleaming in the green Khorassan land. 
Far to the east, the insidious desert soil 
Strangled the verdure with its sandy coil, 
But north and south, the languorous noon-day breeze 
Waved the light leaves of lime and cypress trees 
Across the hills, within whose broken row 
The city glimmered in the vale below. 
Along the road that led from Ispahan 
Was heard the tinkling of the caravan, 
Trailing its dusty, sinuous passage down 
Unto the market of the wealthy town. 



Piercing the hot and dazzling ether through 
A hundred minarets burned against the blue. 
The purple roofs of mosques, to Summer's smiles, 
Flashed all their panoply of porcelain tiles, 
While from their walls the names of Allah shone, 
In many a bold and quaint device of stone. 
Color and light cast everywhere their glow 
Among the booths and houses, row on row ; 
It flamed from off the palace court-yard flags, 
And blazoned even the cringing beggar's rags. 
The ponds and fountains glittering steely-cold 
The sun's keen alchemy changed to liquid gold, 
And marble cupolas and awnings white 
Flashed in full splendour of reflected light, 
While green pomegranate leaf and pregnant vine 
Caught deeper lustre from the ethereal shine. 
Teeming with fierce and palpitating heat, 
The sunbeams wove their network o'er the street, 
And gleamed along the cream-white painted walls 
Of gardens and the roofs of market stalls, 
And showered a mist of yellow radiance down 
O'er hill and valley, desert, wood, and town. 



WAS noon in Naishapiir — the gay bazaars 

Heaped with their wares from 'neath ten thousand 
stars 
One ant-like, vast, conglomerate market made, 
Cross-scored with throbbing avenues of trade. 
But yet the hum of traffic even there 
Hushed at the high Muezzin's call to prayer, 
And too oppressive was the stare of day 
For active toil along the market way. 
Some moments longer surged the stir and bruit 
Around the coffee stalls and booths of fruit, 
A moment longer did the merchant stop 
To close the little shutters of his shop, 
Then in his slippers homeward hurried fast 
To mid-day prayer and the noon's brief repast. 
In the brass- workers' noisy bright bazaar 
Stilled was the chaffering and the hammers' jar, 
And silence, with its solemn, reverent grace, 
Softly down spreading from reposeful space, 
Rested an hour upon the market-place. 



NE man, a poor artificer of brass, 

Stirs not as forth the hurrying vendors pass; 
3 



But soon as stillness rests upon the street, 
Springs from his cross-legged posture to his feet, 
Puts by the lantern he had shaped that day, 
Looks up and down the cleared, deserted way, 
Takes down the bowl of curds and loaf of bread 
That stand upon a shelf above his head, 
Hooks up a curtain o'er the narrow space 
Which forms his doorway to the market-place, 
Casts one more look along the farther wall, 
Then hides himself behind the portal shawl. 



NE might have heard within that curtain soon 
A tapping through the hot and quiet noon ; 
A strange man this — 'tis sure for greed of gain 
He doth at work the noontide hour remain ; 
It was his custom — no one notice took ; 
He was to all a strange and sealed book ; 
No one came near him but to buy or sell ; 
They named him Selim the Unsociable. 
That any one should think it worth his care 
Why the brass-worker spent his hour of prayer 
Behind his curtain, save for closer shade, 
Had never on his fellows' minds been laid. 

4 



It well might seem that for such watchful heed 
Was little use ; — for there was naught, indeed, 
Save vagrant dogs along the shining track, 
Sleeping like pious Moslems, in a pack, 
Snarling in dream, because the heated bricks 
Smote them in poignant fancy like the kicks 
Of Allah's Faithful — snapped their jaws in pain, 
Then rolling over stretched their limbs again. 



UT there came one who in that quiet street 
Listened intently to the hammer's beat; 
You might have marked him by his furtive eye 
A man of cunning, dangerous, shrewd, and sly; 
At Selim's booth he made a sudden stand, 
Lifted the curtain with a stealthy hand 
And peered within — a single ray of light 
Flashed up a marvellous work upon his sight; 
For, rested Selim's bended knees between, 
Glowing with new and richest coppery sheen, 
Engrossed with scrolls of purest arabesque, 
A perfume-holder, airily grotesque, 
Wrought all of brass, pierced round with lace designs 
And burnished fine between the mottoed lines ; 

5 



A miracle of rare and patient art 
Informed by genius working from the heart, 
Such as might hold the incense at the shrine 
Of Allah or of Mahomet the Divine : — 
One might forego all sense except the eyes 
To be possessed of such a wondrous prize. 



j]OU in the misty amethystine West 

Know not with what a rare and pungent zest 
The Persian in his drier purer air 
Values his perfume even as his prayer. 
The perfume-holder — an effeminate whim 
To you — holds yet an honored place with him: 
Scatter within it but some glowing coals, 
Lo! from the brazier forth the perfume rolls, 
Like the warm incense of the votive breath 
From lovers' lips as they unclose in death ! 



O lie awake in one bliss-haunted dream 
Where leaves are rustling and where fountains gleam, 



Within a cool and lustrous colonnade, 
While near, some large-eyed, love-enchanted maid 
Leans, lily crowned, against a marble jar, 

6 



Caressing languidly her light guitar, 

Her fingers glancing o'er the shimmering strings 

Like play of moonbeams on soft bubbling springs, 

Wooing the soul of melody divine 

From murmuring streams and groves of haunted pine, 

Her bosom heaving to the waves of sound 

That have in one delicious languor drowned 

The outer sense, leaving the spirit free 

To revel in a swoon-like ecstasy — 

And then to watch the perfume vapor curl 

With many a slender and fantastic swirl 

Swung through the vibrant music, till the air 

Loaded with tinkling sounds and odors rare 

Filters soul-deep within the fleshly mail, 

Till, rapt, escaping from the body's jail, 

The spirit issuing through its portal flies 

To fairy realms of wonder and surmise — 

That were indeed a taste of Paradise ! 

UT with no thought of this the sordid spy 
Cast on the masterpiece his curious eye. 
He was a merchant, trained in every guile 
Of trade — to fawn, to browbeat, and to smile 

7 



Careful to hold in every scheme he tried 
Of fraud or rapine law upon his side. 
His talon fingers in their trembling clutch 
Pulled back the shadowing curtain overmuch, 
And Selim, of his presence made aware, 
Looked up and met the stranger's cunning stare 
And frowned to note the hard and vulture trace 
Of avarice on the man's ill-omened face. 
The other answered with a smile compressed : 
" Has Allah, O Selim, made the time of rest 
Too long, or has he given too short a day, 
That thus you work the noontide hour away? " 
But Selim threw his head back at the word, 
For all distasteful was the voice he heard, 
Like some proud courser that with action grand 
Tosses aside a strange caressing hand, 
And answered, " Little rest doth surely lie 
With him, O merchant, who with prying eye 
Looks either in the day-time or at night 
On that which others fain would keep from sight, 
Which none concerns. To question not were best, 
Whether I work at mid-day or I rest." 



8 



E set aside the work of perfect art 
And waited for the stranger to depart, 
Who turned his furtive, greedy glance upon 
The perfume-holder ever and anon. 
He named a price, but Selim shook his head; 
That special thing was not for sale, he said. 
The other, following his practised guile, 
Answered again with unbelieving smile, 
He had a friend named Marco, from the north, 
Who, buying works of art, had ventured forth 
From Venice even to the farthest East, 
Would give the price of many a lordly feast 
For such a thing as this, if he would sell: — 
But Selim no persuasion might compel 
To barter; wrathful that he still was pressed, 
He locked his treasure in a cedar chest, 
Then urged upon the merchant one by one 
The less inspired works that he had done — 
They were but few, — till forth the stranger went 
And left him in his solitude content. 



HE merchant paused when he was out of sight 
Of Selim's booth, his face with passion white-, 

9 



With fingers clenched and with a frowning brow 
He seemed to register some mental vow. 
The swart Egyptian boy who stood before 
A rich brass-dealer's widely swinging door, 
Watched, with a keen and curious surmise 
The knavish purpose in the stranger's eyes, 
For every pantomimic act betrayed 
Insatiate greed — the reckless lust of trade. 



STRIDENT voice came calling from afar 
The new-born hour — at once the clattering jar 
Of hammers rose again upon the air; 
The craftsmen hurried to the busy fair, 
And through its alleys poured the human flood 
Like buzzing bees a-swarm within a wood. 
But Selim, in his resting hour intent 
And keenly active, languid now was bent 
Above his tinkering, as though toil had grown 
Distasteful to him since the noon had flown. 
His hammer strokes less eager, blow on blow, 
Fell on the brass, grew slower and more slow, 
And once he clasped his brow convulsive-wise, 
As though it ached, and hid his downcast eyes. 



T was a hot and glaring afternoon ; 
The hum in the bazaar like a bassoon 
Grew constant — presently a shout of throngs 
Came booming with the beat of drums and gongs, 
While now and then the fitful snorting blast 
Of trumpets on the echoing air was cast. 
The shuffling sound of many slippered feet 
Came like a wind-gust down the dusty street; 
The loiterers left their seats beneath the walls, 
Lured by the shouts and noisy trumpet calls ; 
The loud-tongued barter, with the hammering clashed, 
Was stilled as by the glittering pageant flashed. 
The last Shah's eldest son, 'twas bruited wide, 
Was riding to the mosque to wed his bride, 
Next to the Shah the first of Persian land 
And named The- Shadow-of -the- Sultan' s-Hand; 
Yet, for his mother was of humble strain, 
Who might not as an heir the throne attain. 



UT Selim, hooded in his changeless thought, 

Scarce heard the tattle which the gossips brought; 



None sought to pass an easy word with him ; 
They deemed his silence but a surly whim. 



He, heeding little what was thought or said 

So that they left him quiet, in his head 

Kept turning, like the burden of a swound, 

One memory that coiled his mind around. 

He let the lantern uncompleted stand 

And from the little finger of his hand — 

His left hand — with a pensive, wistful look, 

He carefully a linen bandage took, 

And this unwound, a tiny hammered thing 

Of brass which bound his finger like a ring 

Was shown, round which the tissue angry red, 

Twinged fitfully as bit the figured shred. 

He wet the cloth, replaced it ; and a chime 

Of thoughts went swinging backward to the time 

When she, the idol of his heart, had stept 

Across the doorway where his wares were kept, 

And in a careless, blithely-mocking vein, 

Had given him this little cirque of pain. 

Ay, he remembered, how upon that morn 

He felt with ecstasy his soul was born, 

How he had gazed with flushed and rapt surprise 

Upon her lissome form and laughing eyes, 

Fairer than houri to the bosom pressed 



Of Mahomet in the regions of the blest. 
Except her eyes, which glittered each a star, 
Her face was veiled, as in the white cymar 
She glided through the market and by chance 
Caught the obeisance and adoring glance 
Of Selim, sitting cross-legged in his booth; 
And as she saw the passion tide of youth 
Sweep to his eyes, she smiled and oft again 
Returned him salutation — now and then, 
Paused for some moments at his little stall, 
And then coquettishly, by letting fall 
Some corner of her veil, like hide and seek, 
Disclosed the rounded contour of her cheek 
Of ripening olive, like the moon in mist, 
And blush-rose lips that pouted to be kissed. 



jtfftSjalNE day — 'twas one of two such happy days 
Eggffll As star perhaps a lifetime — through the ways 
She came to visit Selim and to buy 
Some trinkets of his patient industry. 
Lingering she stayed an hour; made him tell 
The way he wrought the brass; with playful spell 
She drew from him the use of lead and pitch; 

13 



She took the die and punch and made him teach 
Her hand to cut the ductile metal through ; 
One little die she held, 'twas virgin new — 
A tiny whorl the pattern was — she tried 
It on a strip of brass, and he, to hide 
Her slender fingers from a missing blow, 
Shielded them with his stouter hand, and so, 
As once the stroke she missed, and still again, 
He joyed to think for her he suffered pain. 
At length she gave him back the die — he swore 
With truthful look no one should use it more 
Except himself, and he but on a gift 
For her. Her lustrous laughing eyes were lift 
To Selim's face, as doubting, then with care 
Mocking his earnestness, she told him where 
An aged kinsman dwelt, whence he might take 
The present he intended her to make. 
Then into childlike playfulness did pass 
Her mood ; she took a tiny shred of brass, 
And twisting it with pincers in a ring 
Round Selim's finger tightly, tried to bring, 
Mischievously, across the strong man's face 
A wince, but failed, and smiling left the place. 

14 



""TXSilND Selim, never from that hour at rest, 

Had shrined her lovely image in his breast. 



A few more times, as she had done before, 

She to the market passed his open door; 

But though his eyes with loving hunger sued, 

That one sweet meeting never was renewed. 

Now all his purpose to one issue ran : 

Upon that day he straight for her began 

The perfume-holder, lavished his fond heart 

Upon it; for it eased him of his smart 

To feel he wrought her service and to see 

Its beauty growing like a stately tree, 

Rooted in art, as with the tiny whorl 

He would its richly shining round impearl 

With wheels of light that glimmered on the view, 

Fashioned to let the writhing pungent through. 

For him she had one name and only one; 

As with each noon the precious work was done, 

He muttered as he placed with care apart 

The gift, " 'tis for The-Star-of-Selim's-Heart." 

The star that lighted up the lonely sky 

Of his rapt spirit and then passed him by. 



15 



ND now 'twas finished — every tiny scroll 
Was perfect — but the work in Selim's soul 
Went ever onward like the incessant beat 
Within his hearing, through the mid-day heat, 
Of hammers in their tinkling changeless chime 
Dinning industrious symphony to time. 

E took the punch-like tool, the slender die 

That formed the whorl, and with a saddened eye 
Defaced the pattern with his file and cast 
The useless steel upon the street, then passed 
His hand across his forehead as in pain, 
And took the unfinished lantern up again. 



UT while he worked a warm Elysian dream 
Fell o'er him like the sunset's dying gleam. 



Upon the wings of passion forth he flew 
To meet her where he'd held her oft to view 
In fancy, all unknown to her; he thought 
(Such strangeness in a dream is often wrought) 
That she was now the seeker — he was — where? 
He did not know, he did not seem to care — 
But down the eddying current of his swound 

16 



There came some one and told him she had found 
The perfume-holder — and then he straightway 
Became the perfume-holder, and she lay 
Caressing hand upon it and did speak 
It fair and pressed it with her velvet cheek, 
Letting her silk of hair, a shining pall, 
Like Allah's blessing, o'er its richness fall. 
Then for one moment, through the hammered brass 
He felt his soul, the soul of Selim, pass 
And thrill unto the magic of her touch ; 
The moment flitted — then came voices such 
As Allah sends to true believers when 
He tells them of the crooked ways of men, 
That called, "O Selim! where is Selim?" soon 
A voice made answer in a pleasant tune, 
" I will find Selim, for I know him by 
The ache within his finger; " then the sky 
Was clouded with the sorrows, sighs, and pains 
Of every soul that on the earth remains, 
And forthwith went the form that held the voice 
Among them, making from them all the choice 
She knew was Selim's pain; with that began 
By the dream process, building up a man 

17 



Like Selim, out of things that half-time fell 
And crumbled in the falling; but the spell 
Kept on till all was finished, head to feet; 
Then, for one moment, Selim was complete, 
Sitting in the bazaar, his right hand laid 
Upon his hammer and the lantern stayed 
Between his knees — but nowhere now was seen 
The-Star-of-Selim's-Heart — naught but the sheen 
Of brass-ware, and the crowd that thronged again 
The market, talking of the marriage train. 



WAS but a moment more — and the bazaar 
Vanished again — upon an ivory car 
He sat, the lovely lady by his side, 
And she was wreathed with roses like a bride, 
Starred all with jewels like the milky-way, 
Or fair as dew-fall in the early ray 
Of morning; — like the Shah's, his kaftan white 
Blazed with a diamond, one deep fount of light 
A Peri's tear-drop — and thus forth they rode 
Midst cheers that wave on wave around them flowed, 
Drawn by a gold and crimson harnessed span 
Of cream- white horses, such as at Ispahan 

18 



The Shah drives slowly on great days of state, 

Sitting in pomp of sovereignty sedate. 

Flowers rained upon them, and their coursers' feet 

Trod cloth of gold, as down the echoing street 

They moved unto their bridal — till a band 

With him, The-Shadow-of-the-Sultan's-Hand, 

Met them, and a tumult thence arose — 

For he, the prince, had claimed the bride — and blows 

Were struck to blood ... as Selim wounded lay, 

His jewel and his bride were borne away. 



GAIN the vision changed — his memory fought 
Against oblivion — he remembered what 
Still made his finger ache — and she again 
Was with him on a wild and lonesome plain. 
A ponderous iron mace was in his hand ; 
Like mighty Rustem did he forward stand, 
All husked in mail, and a tremendous boss 
Of burnishd brass his aching arm across 
Held up ; a company of devils roared 
Against him, and amidst the evil horde 
Two Satans, fierce and hideous to view 
As that White Demon god-like Rustem slew. 

i g 



But the sweet lady far too much for fear 
Loved him; she came his wounded hand anear 
And kissed it, and the white Satans roared in scorn 
Upon him, and his sinewy breast was torn 
With passion, and he heaved his mace in air, 
And rushing forward did for fight prepare. 



HEN suddenly he woke — his finger's pain 
Aroused him — he was in his stall again, 



A poor brass-worker, his bright visions flown, 

Unloved, ignoble, downcast, and alone. 

A laughing crowd their jeers upon him kept, 

For he had moved and muttered as he slept; 

And foremost, as the laughter rippled long, 

The crafty merchant stood amidst the throng. 

He spake — " O Selim, your brave dreams must spin, 

From poppy-head, or some old potent bin 

Of wine of Shiraz ! Those who hashish eat, 

Go thus like fakirs through the crowded street 

More strange adventures than were ever sung 

By great Firdusi of the silver tongue." 

And then continued, while the mirth ran high 

And Selim gathered courage to reply — 



'I too can dream, but not of ladies' lips 

And battle, but of merchandise and ships; 

For as in sleep I rested this mid-day, 

I dreamed that Selim came and straight did say, 

" 'I have a perfume-holder here — 'tis thine, 

If thou wilt give me silver pieces nine; 

Sell it to Marco, if thou seest fit 

And let us both a profit make from it. ' 

I see my Selim sitting in his booth — 

Say, has my vision spoken to me truth? " 



|0 perfume-holder have I here for you," 
Said Selim, " all I sell is in your view." 



The crafty merchant made him this repeat, 
With guileful purpose, to the crowded street. 
Still, once more he began — " But dreams are sent 
From Allah " — " Some are, not yours " — Selim bent 
His eye upon him, " I have these to sell ; 
If you have wish to purchase, it is well, 
You shall have value straight and good; I need 
Money to-morrow — make no further plead ; 
If of my wares you want not, forthwith cease, 
And leave me, in the Name of Whom be Peace." 

21 



T length the merchant bought of Selim's art 
With greed, yet loathing with his coin to part ; 
Then took his leave, and Selim, richer grown 
By a few silver coins, could call his own 
Nothing for sale, save where neglected lay 
The unfinished lantern — now he worked away 
Upon it fiercely, as though by this his thought 
Might cease its whispering, or Time be brought 
To mend his pace — and till the market gate 
Was ready to be closed he lingered late 
At work, when rising, with what anxious care 
He fastened tight the little shutters where 
The treasured gift, his pride and solace stood ! 
Then wandered forth in an unquiet mood. 



jjHAT night, uneasy dreams without surcease 
Assailed his spirit, robbed him of his peace. 



That one short night seemed fraught with danger more 
Than all the hundred nights that went before 
When he his treasure in the chest had kept 
In the deserted market-place; he slept 
But little, now that once he surely knew 
Another lusted for it; on he threw 

22 



His clothes, and aimless wandered up and down 
The winding streets and alleys of the town ; 
Still ever coming where his treasure lay 
Behind the palisades which blocked the way 
To the brass-workers' moonlit, still bazaar: — 
The savage dogs, come baying from afar, 
Leaped at the gate which held 'twixt them and him 
As though they fain had torn him limb from limb. 
A watchman with his lantern, on his round, 
Drew near, attracted by the barking sound, 
Looked at him, knew him, and passed otherwhere — 
While he with steadfast eyes kept gazing there 
Between the bars, toward where the shadow fell 
Across his shop — a lonely sentinel. 
Thus constantly until the dawn of day, 
He lived the weary hours of night away. 



CARCE did the market barriers open drop, 
Than he again was hammering in his shop 
At the unfinished lantern. He next took down 
The perfume-holder; wrapped it, that the town 
Might not view what he carried ; then returned 
All quickly home, and with the silver earned, 

23 



Adorned himself in splendid, rich array 

As though it were for some high holiday ; 

Tied with deft care the perfume-holder too, 

Within a silken cloth of creamy hue 

In which he placed a scented billet, writ 

In flowing verses when some rhyming fit 

Had seized his spirit in the cool midnight — 

A skilled caligrapher did it indite 

With many a courteous phrase of love profound- 

And all was with a flowery border bound. 



ET me paint Selim's portrait, as he stands 
The perfume-holder lifted in his hands, 
All garnished fair and ready for his part 
Of service to the mistress of his heart. 
The full fresh turban of white hand- wove stuff, 
Embroidered with a glittering thread of buff, 
A high topped hat of yellow camlet winds; 
Beneath, a snow-white linen skull-cap binds 
His temples with a narrow line, gleams fair 
Above his bronzed face and coal-black hair ; 
His head is straight, symmetric, small of size, 
Alert as any steed's, and his dark eyes 

24 



Are lustrous like a steed's; an eager grace 
Dwells in the outlines of his mobile face ; 
The lips are proudly set, the nostrils fine, 
The features delicate and aquiline, 
Surmounted by a wealth of crispy locks; 
His tunic, brightened by the mazy flox, 
Is like the turban white, and doth unfold 
Now here or there the waving lines of gold ; 
A knife-case in the silken shawl is placed, 
Which winds with graceful fold his slender waist 
No statelier nor braver youth to see 
From Shiraz to Khorassan is than he! 



HE messenger he won to his emprise 

Was an old woman, good, discreet, and wise; 
But ask me not the look, as he did place 
His love-gift in her hands, of Selim's face, 
Or while he watched her dragging steps depart 
To her the one fixed Star-of-Selim's-Heart. 
He lingered there, while soul and visage burned. 
Waiting until the ancient dame returned. 
Some hours later, back she came at last. 
There was no need to question her, he cast 

25 



One look within her hands, where she did lift 
Mutely toward his view the unopened gift, 
Then said, " The lady, by the Shah's command, 
Married The-Shadow-of-the-Sultan's-Hand. " 



HEN Selim bowed his head, and in that place 
A death-like pallor smote him in the face. 
He tottered toward the door as though in years, 
Pierced by a grief that struck too deep for tears. 
Holding in numb embrace the brazen jar 
He found himself again in the bazaar, 
The while with quivering lips, distractedly, 
He whispered texts of old philosophy, 
Striving for consolation ; but no heed 
He gave them : — ah, how often in our need, 
When earth is black beneath the blackened skies, 
They fail, these peaceful sayings of the wise! 



ET through his agony was woven a tune 

Of words that clogged his tongue and like a rune 
Beat dull reiteration in his brain 
And mingled with his bitter flow of pain: 

26 



" WHETHER at Naishdpzlr or Babylon, 
Whether t/te Cup with sweet or bitter run, 
The Wine of Life keeps oozing drop by drop, 
The Leaves of Life keep falling one by one. " 



jHESE were the words of one in Selim's town, 
Whose mighty spirit had brought high renown 
To Persian land from every land abroad; 
In Naishapur they held him like a god; 
He knew the amazing portents of the stars, 
But yet his soul, foiled at life's prison bars, 
Testing the hollowness of earthly state, 
Mocked sadly at irrevocable fate, 
And, spite of all he had by genius won, 
Took up the olden tale of Solomon, 
Chanting the dreary burden o'er again, 
" 'Tis vain — the life we live, like death, is vain! " 



ND Selim turned to work, because he felt 
His reason totter as he slowly spelt 
The import of the blow upon his soul ; — 
In work, unceasing work, he might control 
The sickness at his heart, and so, alas ! 

27 



Might help the miserable days to pass. 

He had forgot or had not cared to change 

His holiday vestments; down the lengthened range 

Of the bazaar the whole brass-working tribe 

Broke forth upon him with loud laugh and gibe, 

That bit not like the fangs of anguish grim, — 

Yet like a swarm of gnats they worried him; 

Longing to be alone, his soul felt wronged 

As round his path the coarse mechanics thronged 

With mock obeisance, gestures rude, uncouth, 

Jeering, as they pursued him to his booth — 

For little love they bore him. Taunt him well! 

Was he not Selim the Unsociable, 

Too proud to mingle with his equals there? 

They crowded close to see how he would stare 

(For a surprise awaited him) as he, 

Drunk with despair's unmanning ecstasy, 

Unto his small store plodded heavily. 



HE booth was plundered — all his wares were gone! 
And worse — his tools! he could not think upon 
Their loss ; their value was not great, but dear 
Almost as were his fingers ; — misery drear 

28 



Settled upon him ; only now remained 
The unfinished lantern, but deformed and stained, 
As though the plunderer held its value light 
And set his heel upon it out of spite. 

E sat a long time in his little shop 

Without a motion, with his head a-prop 
Upon his hands, a ruined man, bereft 
Of all he held most dear; to him was left, 
When he a little cleared his mind to think, 
And reason halted upon madness' brink, 
Only the gift returned which he still held, 
The perfume-holder; he will be compelled 
To purchase bread and tools; now he will go 
And from the merchant buy a lease of woe. 



BLURR and deafness fell on eye and ear — 
Confused him — nor his senses grew more clear 



Till he before the merchant took his stand, 
The precious piece of brass within his hand. 
The place he looked upon with goods was rich ; 
Fine armor blazed from many a stand and niche; 
Sabres from Samarcand and costly shawls 



From Indian looms were hanging on the walls, 
And Orient ivories, carvings from the Isles, 
Within their lacquered cabinets stood in files. 
The shelves were heaped with stuffs of rich brocade ; 
Mirrors of steel with silver frames inlaid 
With jewels, glittering daggers, hookahs fine, 
And all the costly wares of Levantine 
And Indian markets, crowded all the space. 
As Selim gazed with wonder round the place 
Coarse faces covered him with leering scan, 
Fit tools of service to the sordid man 
Whose slaves they were, and downcast Selim felt 
The transient courage he had groped for melt 
Clean from his heart — his one despondent thought 
Made desolation — all things 'gainst him wrought 
A vast conspiracy — for the merchant now 
Began with smiling and contemptuous brow 
To scorn, to cheapen, and to vilify 
That he had been so eager once to buy ; 
Then asking Selim what his need might be, 
He told him he would take as surety 
The handiwork and lend him ; sadly then 
Said Selim, " I need brass and tools again 

30 



To carry on my trade." The merchant's smile 
Changed to a cold and stealthy look of guile 
As forth he brought a well-assorted pack 
Of half- worn tools; but Selim started back — 
Then clutched — the things were his! faintness did seize 
Upon him and he felt his spirit freeze 
And shrivel ; distant, indistinct, and small 
Looked all things round him — darkness seemed to fall. 
He was not sure he had been telling how 
The tools were his, or still quite calmly now 
That they were stolen from him, or that dumb 
He had been standing, deathlike, dazed, and numb. 
Suddenly came the merchant's hateful face 
Close to his own, with horrible grimace; 
Forth sprang two monstrous hands, that straightway lay 
Grasp on his brazen treasure and away 
Bore it in triumph to a distant shelf ; 
Then rushed the hot fit on ; he flung himself 
In rage against the servants — wildly fought — 
Until his mind a little space was brought 
To hear men's voices dwindling through the dim 
From faces that he knew ; one said of him 
After another, Selim's could not be 

31 



The perfume-holder— they were sure that he 
Owned nothing of the kind — they knew him well 
And all his work — he yesterday did tell 
He had not such a thing ; — and as he strove, 
Struggling, to right himself, they dragged and drove 
Him forth, and nothing but a blurr was there 
Of dust and pressure, anger and despair. 
Blows rained upon him; one last cruel stroke 
Felled him with torture; — then his spirit broke! 

****** 

HE, who had been to one unhappy heart 
The load-star of its being, sat apart 



In the zenana's silken privacy, 

A married captive, never to be free. 

But o'er The-Shadow-of-the-Sultan's-Hand 

Some time she ruled ; — the heart she could command 

Of that fierce fighter in his pleasant mood ; — 

A second wife, in sovereign solitude, 

All gave her homage, all her triumph graced, 

Even she, the first wed, whom she had displaced. 



IHE-Shadow-of-the-Sultan's-Hand at first 
Was courteous and devoted — but he nursed 

32 



Higher ambition than in flowers to bind 
His spirit to the rule of one girl mind, 
Howe'er enchanting, for his heart was set 
On deeds of violence; he could ne'er forget 
The zest for blood which followed him from birth ; — 
He was a bold, intrepid son of earth, 
A graceful tiger in a leash of silk, 
As mild and pleasant as the cocoa's milk, 
When free from passion, but resolved and strong 
And masterful when purpose swept along 
His rapid tide of mind ; — a lion hunt 
In which he ever bore the danger brunt, 
Or thought of some resistless, vengeful raid 
Into Afghanistan, more often swayed 
The councils of his heart, than any charms 
He found within the circle of her arms. 
And she, poor lonely discontented dove, 
Brooded upon it, felt if she in love 
Had been so favored in her lot to fall 
Unto the heart that loved her all in all, 
However lowly, howsoe'er distressed 
By circumstance — by poverty oppressed — 
Life had been happier, shared with such a one, 

33 



Than that now passed with this proud monarch's son. 

Unlike the frivolous, tranquil, idle crew 

Who chattered round about her, often grew 

Intolerable to her vivacious mind 

The still zenana — health and spirit pined. 

But came distress far greater when, one day, 

Returning from some distant wide foray 

Into Afghanistan, her husband brought 

A captive home, who now held all his thought. 

The superseded wife grew languid, pale; 

Till — part by some new thought to countervail 

Her weak depression, part, she might consult, 

A learned astrologer, whose art occult 

In all that region was most famous — they 

Who lived about her counselled her one day, 

She should a few leagues' distant journey take 

(The sad monotony of her life to break), 

Apast the turquoise hills, and level land 

That fringed the province with its shifting sand. 



OOR lonely star of one lone heart! some love 
Her soul still yearned for like that heaven above 
The Frankish women sought — she had not dreamed 

34 



That it had crossed her; — its pale radiance gleamed 

Athwart her vision through her veil of tears, 

Fairer as grew the distance of the years ! 

Bravely again she took life's burden up. 

Hope flowered once more; she had not drained the cup 

Of bitter vintage to its turbid lees. 

She and her escort started as the breeze 

Of early evening swept the scente.d glades 

And waved the banners o'er long colonnades, 

Ruffled the citron blooms, and filled the air 

With cool perfume and freshness everywhere, 

Rolled like cocoons the streamers of the sky, 

Soothed the hot valleys with its fitful sigh, 

Fluttered the folds of shawls and turbans loose 

And frolicked in the billowy white burnous, 

The heated city fanned with dewy breath, 

And even revived the falt'ring pulse of death! 



ERVANTS and slaves upon the camels laid 
The tents and baggage ; others were arrayed 
To take the journey, sitting on the packs 
That hung to either side the camels' backs. 
And as a guard, to rearward and before, 

35 



Some twenty warriors on their camels bore 
Long lances, sceptres for each humpy throne, 
Like staves of ancient kings in days unknown. 



HE camel train from out the gateway passed 
And left the hills behind — then travelled fast 



Across the waste, whose open length was soon 
O'erhung by the large lemon-colored moon. 
The guards from time to time their challenge sent 
To plodding footmen on their passage bent 
Unto the city walls, who straightway told 
Themselves as home-bound miners; they did hold 
A moment (after they the mines had passed), 
A band of all these travellers the last; 
And, at the captain of the train's demand 
Why they were journeying in that lonely land, 
They answered humbly, they had carried out 
Into the distant desert thereabout, 
The corpse of one who had died raving mad 
In prison; stripped the body what it had 
Of worth upon it — now but from their toil, 
With their poor recompense of sordid spoil. 
The captain forward turned his camel's head 

And told his lady what the men had said. 

36 



AUGHT further marked their travel; all next day 
They camped — at evening took again their way; 
And when at last arose the second sun 
They left the desert, their long journey done; 
And to the village now their lady brought, 
Where lived the famed astrologer she sought. 



FTER some messages had been exchanged, 
A visit for the lady was arranged 
To the astrologer : — his house was small 
And undistinguished ; but upon the wall 
Of a rich room where he received his guest, 
A time-piece hung of rarest art; impressed 
With mystic figures stood an astrolabe 
Fine wrought in brass when science was a babe, 
Brought from Egyptian land ; an open book 
Lay on a table; in a crypt-like nook 
Were yellow parchments piled. The languid wife 
Wistfully eyed the man of learned life ; 
A sage sedate — a form of mark and note, 
Where even a beggar in his frowsy coat 
Looks almost like a king — his tall black cap 
And simple flowing robe of woolen nap 

37 



Were of the finest, and his brow and eye, 
Majestic, as through gazing on the sky 
And pondering deeply o'er its hidden lore 
He much of its sublime expression wore. 
Full to the waist, wide o'er the massive chest, 
His sable beard swept down his scarlet vest, 
Lending grave dignity and benignant grace 
Unto his lofty form and thoughtful face. 
This saying rose from those who saw him then, 
That " no men should wear beards but Persian men." 

|E§T|§|HE sad-faced lady, come to seek his aid, 
lHjBjJl Took courage as his features she surveyed — 
Calm, courteous, wise, he seemed ; she told him all 
Was needful for his science ; told the thrall 
And empty hunger of her heart, and, too, 
Briefly her history, for she saw he knew 
Much of the weakness of worn souls, for he 
Was deeply read in the philosophy 
And poetry of Iran and the East, 
And soothed her hungry spirit with a feast 
Of thoughtful phrases culled for counsel by 
Men's souls to comfort life's extremity, 

38 



Down from the words of Solomon the Wise 

To the star-gazer poet, he who lies 

In her own city in unfevered rest, 

The burial stones and clods across his breast. 



HE words of counsel past, ere she her way 

Took thence, he told her, he the following day 
The issue of his studies of the night 
Would send her. She too watched the twinkling light 
Of stars, that maze-like through the heavens kept 
Mysterious way : — beneath them mortals slept 
As though no seeds of fate within them lay: — 
Keepers of how many secrets they 
Of human hearts, revealers of how few, 
Though they eternal shine upon our view. 
Ah, they did never to her soul impart 
That one had called her " Star-of-Selim's-Heart! " 



EXT morn, in scented silk the missive came: 
TO the Most High and Honorable Dame, 
Wife of The-Shadow-of-lhe-Sultan's-Hand, 
Fairest of all the fair of Persian land ! 
In name of Allah, whom the Faithful call 
The Merciftd, Victorious, Chief of All j — 

39 



The Stars, O Lady, speak the truth, but man 
Not always can their mystic answer scan j 
Such power seldom is to mortals given ; 
I thrice to-night have read the face of heaven, 
And thrice this answer hath been given to me — 

"A FLIGHT OF BLACKBIRDS." 

May it rest with thee, 
O Lady, to interpret them aright, 
And may they throw upon thy darkness light 
According to thy heart ; and may the peace 
Of Allah, who alone gives souls increase, 
Be shown to thee. This is the prayer devout 
Of him the unworthiest of thy servants j doubt 
Not He will send thee grace. 

Written by the hand 
Of Hassan of the Astrolabe, to command. 



HE, taking these words with her, now began 
Her homeward journey, pondering; still ran 
Her thoughts along one line; her mind was bent 
Upon the answer of the stars ; it went 
Ever before her like a vision blest, 
Guiding her to the hopeland of her quest. 

4o 



|^j"jrta|T was that chill and silent time of night 
IfeliBSal Preceding sunrise, ere the dawning light 
Grows creeping on the world ; mysterious hour, 
When Azreal comes with all his awful power 
To loose the souls of men and women old 
From out their bodies, and to close enfold 
Their fluttering spirits — beareth them away 
Unto the realms of midnight or of day. 

|^|a]HE camel-train paced slowly; rose the dust 
|gg.cHj As each huge foot into the sand was thrust, 
And fell again full quickly, beaten down 
By the damp air; to right and left a frown 
Against the sky betokened hills ; the sun 
Above the left ones soon his course to run 
Prepared; the watchful guards from time to time 
Turned in their saddles to behold him climb 
The hill-tops; o'er the desert's darkened gray, 
Ahead of them, the lighter film of day 
Pressed a faint outline ; an uneven spur 
Dimly defined against the misty blur,. 
Breaking the outline showed them Naishapur. 



41 



S peered the sun's brow o'er the hills again, 
Startled by that or by the camel-train, 
A clamorous flight of birds upon one hand 
Streamed from some object on the distant sand. 
The lady, resting in uneasy sleep, 
Awoke, as o'er her rose the rattling sweep 
Of wings, and from her litter watched them float 
Ominous and black against the heaven remote, 
New lighted by the half-way risen sun, 
Which o'er the pallid sky his splendor spun. 
Back to her mind, as from a written page, 
There rushed the words of the star-gazing sage, 
" A flight of blackbirds " — then she waved her hand 
And gave the captain of the train command 
She must be taken straightway to the spot 
Whence came the birds of omen — but he not 
Without remonstrance did her will, soon day 
Would scourge the desert v/ith his burning ray. 
As moved the slow procession toward the place 
The sun gazed o'er the hill-tops — from his face 
His streaming golden locks were shaken wide 
And swept the landscape upon every side. 



42 



FAIREST lady," said the chief, in tones 

Sore vext, " let Allah hear me, 'tis the bones 
But of a man, one lost or made away 
With in the desert ; others for a prey 
Than these same birds have found him ; there abides 
With him no coin, nor weapons at his sides." 
" In name of Allah, Merciful and Just, 
Dismount, some of you men, and straightway thrust 
Around him ; search each bit of cloth and bone 
To see if aught about him may be known." 



NWILLINGLY, and cursing the delay 
Unto themselves, they did her wish obey. 
They lifted with their spears each ragged clout 
And with their muskets moved the bones about. 



OTHING, fair lady, nothing," said the chief, 
Climbing upon the saddle with relief; 
Then set the rest in motion, well content 
To quit their tarrying. To the litter went 
Some minutes after one who lingered late; 
Without a word, but with a smile sedate, 
Handed his lady in a tiny thing 

43 



Of white and yellow ; round it was a ring 
Or shred of brass, twist tight, that bore along 
Each edge at intervals impression strong, 
Irregular, a little whorl, which she 
Looked at, surmising of its history, 
Holding it in the hollow of her hand 
Some moments, till her memory might expand 
Around it, and revive the distant day 
That she on Selim's finger in her play 
Had twisted it, and limn the constant gaze 
He ever held for her along the ways, 
And all the tender love and rapt surprise 
That lighted up his dark and thoughtful eyes. 



O this, then, he had come! Ay, well — alas! 
She knew the little pattern on the brass 
As tearfully she scanned it — he had said 
(She now remembered) in his little shed, 
He, poor dead Selim, her lone worshipper, 
The tool that made it, save on gift for her, 
He ne'er would use; yes, he whose bones now lie 
Scattered upon the sand, beneath the sky, 
All except this one, this small finger-bone, 

44 



Pledge of his love which she possessed alone, 
The one cold token of his constant flame, 
Around which thoughtless beauty toiled to frame 
A ring; on whose dry whiteness beauty now 
Shed tears, pressed kisses, then with head a-bow 
Laid it within her fair grief-laden breast 
To cherish it and rock it there to rest. 



HE lusty sun stared fiercely from on high 
When they attained the city. The blue sky 
Was dazzling clear, save where some fine-combed clouds 
Straggled across it like the souls in shrouds 
Speeding to heaven, or travellers single file 
Moving one way, apart, suspecting guile, 
Wrapping their parching bodies from the glare 
And dusty highway. The zenana's air 
Unto the Star-of-Selim's-Heart was cool 
And comforting, as fresh from out the pool 
Of scented water on the rich divan 
She lay and o'er her waved an Indian fan 
Held by her favorite maid : — two little girls, 
The pets of the zenana, bright as pearls, 
Brought her a present which he did command, 

45 



Her lord, The-Shadow-of-the-Sultan's-Hand, 

On her return be given her. Carelessly 

She loosed the first silk wrappings — paused — for she 

Saw now it was a noble work of art, 

Even such a love -work as some loyal heart 

Like Selim's might have given her: — she unwound 

The silk with wakened care, in thought profound ; 

A triumph of beauty! he had promised sure 

Even such a gift ; — alas ! he had been poor. 

Each thing within his little shop was rare, 

But naught therein with such work could compare 

As this great perfume-holder — for indeed, 

Out of his poverty — from his daily need — 

He had not time, perchance, with his employ, 

But to begin for her some little toy. 

Faint murmurings were thronging in her ears, 

She gazed upon it through a mist of tears; 

Seen midst them, the entrancing graceful thing 

Seemed indistinct, gigantic, wavering. 



S the tears fell she wiped them fast away ; 

Then seeing more clearly, something made her lay 



Grasp on the brazen vessel, while her gaze 

46 



Grew to it all excitement and amaze — 
Then to her bosom pressed it with a sob : 
As her heart, answering with a mighty throb, 
Shook deep her being, all her shrine of hair 
Closed round the perfume-holder like a prayer! 

|j||||S]HERE — there — and there again the proof of love, 

iP.^J] Each scrolled and burnished strip of brass above, 

Upon each ornamental fillet's round, 

The same neat-patterned tiny whorl was found ! 

The same which on his finger once, amused, 

She fastened — from the die herself had used ! 



ES, Selim's gift had come to her — his love 
Had found her after death — and there above, 
Even in the far realms of bliss, new cheer 
Must come to him ; had she not grown more near 
Unto his spirit though his outcast bones 
Lay bleaching on the desert's sands and stones, 
All save this finger-token? But there — look! 
Carved on the brass, his words — the open book 
Of Selim's love — the words he never said 
In life — his message to her from the dead! 

47 



HE sun that evening, from the spot the train 
Had halted when the day broke o'er the plain, 
Might then be seen soft barred with roseate streaks 
Dying away between the western peaks; 
And as he sank from view, the cooling breeze 
Of evening rustled in the breathing trees, 
But rose at night, and with persistent sweep 
A requiem along the wastes did keep, 
And as it wailed its dreary, weird refrain 
Around the hills and o'er the barren plain, 
Cast heavy handfuls of soft sand where lay 
A dead man's bones — and when the face of day 
Looked for them, lo ! the desert held its trust, 
Folded forever in its shroud of dust ! 



N that same night, the wind with plaintive sigh 
Entered a lonely cloistered turret high 



Of the zenana of a prince, and there 
Searched out a dim-lit chamber, lifted rare 
Spiced odors forth along the midnight air 
From a brass perfume-holder — such sweet breath 
As rises only at a monarch's death. 



48 



N the starred duskness, pale and dreamy-eyed, 
A woman breathed the incense — watched it glide 
Out toward the desert ; one hand on her breast, 
Dove-like against the quivering whiteness, pressed 
A silken case — within, a little bone 
And piece of hammered brass. . . . 

No more is known. 




49 



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